


To Do Good in a Time of Uncertainty

by Vagabond



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Comfort, Corona Virus - Freeform, Fluff, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, South Downs Cottage (Good Omens), aziraphale and crowley do good for people
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-14
Updated: 2020-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:01:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23145835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vagabond/pseuds/Vagabond
Summary: Crowley and Aziraphale do their best to take care of people in a time of crisis and uncertainty.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 23
Kudos: 132





	To Do Good in a Time of Uncertainty

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know who needs this. Maybe I'm the one who needs it. I just find, in the midst of all this uncertainty and stress, that it is nice to think there's a guardian angel and demon out there going to bat for all of us. 
> 
> Be well. Be safe. I love you!

“Crowley, have you been keeping up with the news?” Aziraphale asked from the dining nook. Crowley was sprawled on the sofa in the sitting room watching rain lash the windows of the cottage they lived in together. 

“Nah.” Crowley didn’t take his eyes off the windows, rivulets of water sliding down the pane. 

“Perhaps you ought to.” Aziraphale’s voice came from right above him and he tore his eyes away from the window to see his angel’s face crumpled in concern. 

“What’s wrong?” He sat up, a shiver running down his spine. Certainly if there had been some new attempt at ending the world, they would have had some sense of warning. Yet that’s where his mind jumped, reeling with the possibility they’d have to fight again. 

Aziraphale pressed the newspaper into his hands. They only received it one day a week, as Aziraphale insisted the internet would keep them updated otherwise. He was right, but that meant they had to check and life in the cottage didn’t always make a way for that. Crowley had plants to berate, after all, and neighborhood children to chase. 

The headline announced the corona virus to be a pandemic. Crowley’s eyes raked over the page. Italy had been locked down, the United States was suspending flights from Europe, people were buying massive amounts of toilet paper. 

“Toilet paper?” He asked aloud. 

“I know, dear. Humans are strange.” 

“Sounds like something Beelzebub would have signed off on. They always loved to mess with the panicked masses.” Crowley frowned at the paper and then looked up at Aziraphale. “But, we’re fine. We can check in on the others in the village but I imagine we’ll all be pretty safe.” 

“But there’s got to be so many anxious people out there…” Aziraphale was fretting. It was easy enough to recognize from the furrow of his brow, the frown on his lips, and the way he wrung his hands. 

“We don’t work for our respective head offices anymore,” Crowley reminded him. 

“I  _ know _ that,” Aziraphale hissed, then let out a slow breath and closed his eyes. “Crowley.” 

“You want us to go out and help. And what do you purpose we do, angel? We can’t stop the spread anymore than we could stop the plague, or any other flu in history.” 

“No, perhaps not, but...but you know how humans get. The toilet paper is just the tip of the iceberg, I’m sure. There’s going to be social isolation, likely racism, tribalism, people who need a push in the right direction to be good, to do right by their fellow man.” Aziraphale shifted his weight from one foot to the other. 

Crowley sighed. Aziraphale wasn’t  _ wrong _ , but he still wasn’t sure how much good a couple of ex-employees of Heaven and Hell could do. “We could start here in the village, then.” 

“Really?” Aziraphale’s anxiety appeared to ease at that. “You’re saying start…” 

“Yes, it means I’ll go with you elsewhere, too. But we start small,” he pointed at him. “And we see how people are doing, first, before we go making any big moves. The last thing we need is Heaven or Hell - or both - to think we’re getting in the way.” He didn’t want another holy water and hellfire incident. 

“Right. Right of course! I’ll go get my wellies on.” 

“Wait - right now?” 

“Why would we wait?” Aziraphale was already making his way to the front door, plucking his boots from the shoe rack. He shoved his feet into them. They were the same tartan pattern as his bowtie. 

“I don’t know. I thought we could hold off until the rain slowed down.” 

“Pish posh, my love. This is England. The rain never stops.” He donned his raincoat and pulled the hood up over his curls. Crowley stared at the being he loved more than anything in the entire universe and then sighed as loudly as he could while forcing himself up and off the couch. 

“If I catch cold because of this, angel…” 

“I promise I’ll cuddle you in bed until you’re warm and well again.” Aziraphale beamed at him and helped Crowley into his own black raincoat. He shoved his feet into matching black wellies. 

They stopped by each of their neighbor’s cottages that were within walking distance first, checking in. 

“Oh, that’s so sweet of you boys.” Edith, a pensioner who lived with her surly husband Edmond, smiled at them. “I promise we’re quite well, except the rain does make Edmond’s knee act up. He’s been griping about it all morning.” 

“I ain’t!” Edmond called from the other room. “No more than you’re complainin’ about yer shoulder!” 

“Oh hush you!” Edith’s smile turned into a grin which seemed to take years off her face. “Either way, I don’t imagine we’ve got much to fear from the virus at this point but we’ll be keeping to ourselves all the same. If you boys run out to the grocery, would you mind picking up some of those chocolate biscuits they make in the bakery?” 

“Of course,” Aziraphale held her hand in his and patted it. 

“Thank you, darling things.” 

They said their goodbyes and made it to the next cottage, and then the next. One by one they said hello to their neighbors and checked in to make sure they were alright. Crowley knew Edmond would find his knee aching less, that Edith would have a particularly low pain day, and that Mrs. Anderson’s little ankle biters would be calm for the rest of the evening to give her a break while her husband remained out of town. 

“Throwing around an awful lot of miracles, angel.” 

“As if you didn’t make sure Edith would find a tin of those biscuits already in her pantry.” Aziraphale shot him a look. 

Crowley scowled. “We weren’t going to the grocery…” He didn’t like to be caught. It did, however, earn him a smile and Aziraphale’s hand in his so he considered it a win. 

Once they’d exhausted everyone within walking distance, Crowley drove them into town where they visited businesses. The local cafe owner, Mr. Judson, who ran it with his family, insisted they’d seen a decline in customers due to concerns about socializing. 

“You’re the first customers in since the early morning breakfast regulars.” He was in his mid-40’s, with a rugged, average face, short brown hair, and a goatee. “It is a little worrisome, but we’re still getting takeaway orders so Cliff is doing his best to fill them even in this weather.” 

“That’s good.” Aziraphale glanced at the pastries tucked behind glass at the front counter. “I think for the sake of it we’ll take a couple of your scones of the day, and maybe an almond croissant.” 

“I’ll throw in a piece of the chocolate pound cake, too,” Mr. Judson said with a knowing glance at Crowley who scowled. It was the one thing he couldn’t resist at this particular cafe. “And a coffee and hot chocolate, yes?” 

Aziraphale beamed and clapped his hands. “Precisely!” 

They bundled up their goods and left the bakery box in the Bentley as they continued to walk down the main street. Some of the businesses were closed and Crowley pictured the owners and clerks in his mind and wished them well. 

Aziraphale pulled him into the general store, where a freckled teenager with wild ginger hair pulled back into a half-pony stood behind the counter. She glanced up from her magazine and smiled, revealing braces. “Mister and Mister Fell.” 

Crowley huffed and didn’t miss Aziraphale’s delighted wiggle. Apparently being Mister and Mister  _ Crowley _ would be too awkward, since it was what Crowley went by. They’d had a whole argument about it and Crowley had lost. 

“How are you Olivia?” Aziraphale approached the counter. 

“Fine now, I guess. It was a little weird for a couple of days. A guy I didn’t recognize came in and bought almost all of our hand sanitizer and disinfectant wipes. I tried to tell him off but…” She frowned. “He wouldn’t listen, and I couldn’t get a hold of Mister Usman to get his help.” 

Mister Usman, Crowley knew, was the gentleman who owned the shop. 

“What happened afterward?” Aziraphale asked. 

“Mister Usman came as soon as he could but the gentleman was gone and I’d limited him as much as I could, but he was so intimidating. He kept saying I was discriminating by not letting him buy what he wanted and I didn’t want Mister Usman’s shop to get in trouble.” Her smile vanished as she stared down at the counter. 

“Other people have been coming in wanting to restock and I’ve had to tell them we’re mostly out of things. They’ve been kind about it, but I feel terrible.” 

“What did he look like?” Crowley asked. Olivia glanced up at him and then proceeded to describe him. “And did he use a credit card? Do you have the information?” 

“What are you planning to do?” She asked. 

“Pay him a visit,” Crowley replied honestly, seeing no reason to lie. “And ensure he’s not resource hoarding.” 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea…” 

“Nor do I, Crowley dear.” Aziraphale wrapped his fingers around his wrist and squeezed. “I think you’ve done a wonderful job in the circumstances, Olivia, and I imagine the shop will get another shipment of things soon enough. Keep your chin up, yes?” 

“Of course, Mister Fell.” 

They left and once they were outside in the rain, Crowley turned and glared at Aziraphale over his sunglasses. “What did you mean, about it not being a good idea?” 

“I meant that I had already gone through the records and have the gentleman’s name, and we needn’t trouble Olivia with such things.” 

Oh, that was his bastard angel alright. “You want to continue the rounds while I go see a certain twat?” 

“Certainly.” Aziraphale pulled Crowley down into a kiss. “Do show him the error of his ways, darling.” 

With a smirk, Crowley took down the information Aziraphale gave him about a Mister Joshua Cain and disappeared, leaving Aziraphale to finish their rounds. He appeared in front of a house in a town that was far more populated than the little village he and Aziraphale had made their home. 

Crowley pulled out his cell phone and dialed a number. 

“The fuck you want, traitor?” Beelzebub snarled on the other end of the line. 

“Nice to hear from you too. Listen, I have a potential soul for you and I think you’re going to really like this one.” 

“...I’m listening.” 

A conversation and a few demon appearances later, Mister Joshua Cain was piling up his purchased supplies in the back of his hatchback with plans to take them to local charities. It wouldn’t save him, nothing could save that sort of selfishness, but at least it would help others. 

Crowley’s phone rang. “Yes, Beelzebub?” 

“I’m still a prince, you asshat. That was fun. Be in touch if you find another.” 

The line went dead and Crowley returned to the mainstreet with a thought and a snap. He found Aziraphale exiting the small used book store that doubled as a library. 

“Everything go well?” Aziraphale asked. 

“Exceedingly.” 

“Glad to hear it.” Aziraphale reached out and took Crowley’s hand again. “I think I’ve checked in on everyone who is around. What say we take a pastry break and go back to the cottage?” 

“I could think of another way to spend a break…” Crowley gave Aziraphale a look which received raised brows in return. 

“Oh could you now?” 

Over the next few days they took their work outside of the village. Aziraphale followed the echoes of worry, of anxiety, and of concern. He led Crowley to a home where a group of 20-something roommates were worried about their jobs closing and losing income. They were blessed with food they’d “forgotten” about in the fridge, and a note from a parent in another part of the world who had sent them enough money to cover rent for two months. 

In a community center that served immigrant populations, Crowley changed his form and took on a look he hadn’t worn in centuries. Her long hair was hidden beneath a head scarf, the rest of her clothes black and flowing. It was nice to be back in a female-presenting body, and even better to be back around people speaking an old language she understood. She blessed them with comfort, giving each of them a boost of strength to be there for one another. 

To the staff of the center, the social workers, and cooks, and other service providers, she gave a blessing of a good night’s rest, and the wisdom to keep an eye on each other’s well being. 

“You look lovely,” Aziraphale whispered to her right before Crowley returned to his male-presenting form. “You always look lovely.” 

They shared a few kisses in an alleyway before they went back to work. 

Crowley and Aziraphale visited as many people as they could, seen and unseen. They did it until they were tired and returned to the cottage to rest in each other’s arms before getting up and doing it all again. Because when the world experienced uncertainty, its local guardian angel and demon would be there to sow a little good. 

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to take advantage of some writing prompts I'm doing, come check out what's happening on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/likelyshovels) and [Tumblr](https://waffleironbiddingwar.tumblr.com/).


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